


The British Are Coming

by britishmenaredestroyingmylife



Category: British Actor RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Erotica, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Sex, Sexual Content, Shameless Smut, Smut, With A Twist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-12
Updated: 2014-08-12
Packaged: 2018-02-12 21:26:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2125218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/britishmenaredestroyingmylife/pseuds/britishmenaredestroyingmylife





	The British Are Coming

It was October, and it was torrentially pouring in New York City. The hotel bar was almost empty; it was a Friday, and I supposed people had better places to be than here. I didn’t. I had planned to spend a quiet night nursing my drink, and good thing, too, because there just so happened to be a delicious, tall drink of water who’d had the same idea.

And he was openly staring at me across the bar, practically devouring me with his gaze.

I smiled shyly, then watched as he moved to catch the bartender’s eye. He whispered a few words; the bartender smirked and nodded, then came over to me.

“Gentleman over there would like to buy you another of whatever you’re having.”

“I gladly accept.” I nodded a thank you at the man across the bar, then turned back to the bartender as he poured my Johnnie Walker. I leaned in and asked him, “Is he a regular here? Do you know anything about him?”

“Never seen him before. Way he talks, sounds British or Irish or something.” He shrugged.

“British,” came the voice behind me. I started as I realized the man was sidling up to me. “Hm… I bet I can guess what you’re drinking.”

I looked up expectantly. “How’s that?”

“Hm… well, you’re American but I’d be willing to bet money your background is Irish, since you’ve practically got a map of Ireland written on your face. So, my guess is Jameson.”

I laughed. “It’s actually scotch. Johnnie Walker.”

“Oh really? I’m half-Scottish, myself.”

“I thought you said you were British.”

“Half, darling.” He slid into the seat next to me. Goddamnit, he was sexy. He wore a black button-down shirt with a grey suit.

“What about you, then? What are you drinking?” I asked, glancing at the amber liquid in his glass.

He took a gulp and grinned. “Jameson.”

“Interesting. You know, historically speaking, the British and the Irish don’t get along.” I ran my finger along the rim of my glass. I was so glad I’d gotten my nails done - the seductive red seemed to fit this situation perfectly.

“So I’ve heard. But relations have improved a bit, love. Even if we Brits have to win you over one by one, I believe we’ll get it sorted out.”

“You think so?” I downed some more of my drink.

“I do.” He smiled and licked his lower lip. Goddamnit, I was in trouble. He leaned in close, the whiskey on his breath somehow enticing, and said, “Would you like to help heal the rift?”

I felt a sudden heat between my legs. “Hmmm… what did you have in mind?”

“Oh, I don’t know… we could discuss the best way to bring about a lasting peace between our two countries, we could compare and contrast the tactics of the most effective humanitarians of the century, we could debate the history of the Troubles, or…” He leaned toward me, conspiratorially. “We could go up to my hotel room and fuck like rabbits.” During this speech, his hand had been slowly working its way up my thigh and was now fingering the hem of my dress.

I tried to keep my cool, but I could feel my face flushing. My body was betraying me. Damnit. “Tough call. I might need to hear those options again,” I replied. Fuck me, I wanted him. “But first, I need to know your name.”

“Tom.”

“Tom, I’m Lori.”

“Lovely name.”

“Thank you. Now, that last thing you mentioned - I think it involved fucking like rabbits? - that appeals to me. However, I’m not sure how that’s going to heal the centuries-long rift between Ireland and England.”

He pursed his lips in thought. “Well, what about America and England, then? You declared your independence from us a few hundred years ago, but we get on rather well now. Still some residual bitterness over losing the colonies, of course…”

“Ah, see, that’s the attitude that’s gotten you into trouble all throughout history. Thinking you own everything and everyone. Bastard Brits.”

“Come on now, darling, that’s hardly fair. Let me prove you wrong, then.”

“Ah, I see now. So by banging me, basically, you’d be proving that the British aren’t all so bad.”

“Of course, love. I can promise you’ll have changed your tune by the time the night’s over.”

I smiled. “Challenge accepted. Let’s go.” I quickly downed the rest of my drink. He picked my wrap up off my chair and put it around my shoulders, then snaked an arm possessively around my waist.

“What about the tab?”

“No worries, it’s being charged to the room.”

We reached the elevator - mercifully, empty. I’d been growing increasingly curious about the bulge in his pants, which seemed to indicate he was… well, unusually gifted, and I intended to find out what I was getting into before I got up to his room.

He pressed the button for the 10th floor. I immediately pushed him against the wall and crushed my lips to his, while dipping one hand into his trousers.

I broke the kiss with a gasp. “Jesus! Is that for real?”

He chuckled darkly and pulled me closer, gripping my ass and grinding against me. “Oh, it’s real, and it’s all for you, my little Irish-American princess.”

The elevator dinged; he extracted my hand and practically dragged me down the hall to his room. He fiddled with the keycard before the door finally clicked open; he held it for me.

“Wow, nice room - ” I hadn’t even finished the thought before I was being pushed against the wall, his tongue eagerly invading my mouth, one hand cupping my breast while the other pulled my skirt up and began stroking the damp lace between my thighs. He began trailing hot kisses down my neck to my clavicle; I yelped when he bit down on my shoulder.

“Sorry, love.”

“Marking me for England, are you?”

“Not yet,” he growled. I could feel his engorged cock pushing insistently against my thigh.

“Bed,” I whispered, “let’s do this right.”

“As you wish.” He whirled me around, showering little kisses on my face as he shrugged off his suit jacket and walked me backwards until the backs of my knees hit the edge of the mattress.

He started working on his shirt buttons when I stopped him. “Allow me.”

I began working each button loose, kissing his chest as I moved downward. I could hear his breathing grow more labored the further down I went, until I was sitting on the bed, eye-level with his pelvis. I pushed his shirt off, then trailed my fingers down his chest and began working on his zipper.

Once I freed him, my suspicions from the elevator were confirmed: Not only was he going commando, he was also fucking huge. It bobbed in front of me and his eyes locked on mine as I flicked my tongue around the tip.

“Oh, fuck,” he moaned, as I took a little more of him into my mouth and swirled my tongue around him. I withdrew with a pop and licked my lips.

“Mmm, you taste good,” I said. I spit into my hand and started working the base of his shaft, since there was no way I could possibly take him all. I started sucking in earnest, licking up and down while I pumped him with my hand. His fingers curled in my hair and I felt him starting to thrust slightly; I nearly choked.

“Oh, sorry darling, I’m getting a bit carried away… need to focus. Eye on the prize.” He pulled out of my mouth and proceeded to remove what remained of his clothes.

I started to unbutton my dress when he grabbed my hands. “Now, I hardly think that’s fair. You had your turn; now it’s mine.” He slowly, slowly, began unbuttoning my dress, while running his tongue over my neck and then over every inch of freshly exposed skin.

He pushed the top part of my dress off and stopped to look at my bra-clad breasts. “Ah, love, those are positively magnificent.”

I grinned. “These breasts coming to you courtesy of the Emerald Isles.”

“I’ll have to call and thank them.” He pulled the rest of my dress off and deposited it on the floor. I was thankful to have worn an actual bra/panty set rather than my usual mismatches; not only that, but this set was black and lacy and made me feel gorgeous.

“Is this what they’re calling lingerie these days?” he asked, cupping my breasts in admiration.

“Some people are, yes.”

“God bless America,” he muttered as he made quick work of my bra. That joined the dress on the floor as he began kneading and sucking appreciatively at my chest, and gently pushing me backward onto the mattress. As I lay down he started kissing just below my breasts, then my belly, and thank God he was headed south because I was getting a bit desperate at this point. His fingers hooked the waistband of my panties and began to tug. I obliged by raising my hips, and he slipped them off easily.

He positioned his head between my thighs and gave me a long, slow lick. I sighed and moaned out loud.

“God, you’re wet.” He began to lick and suck at my clit, occasionally switching out with his fingers, until he started to work one inside me. He swirled his tongue around and I cried out. Dear God, this man was talented.

He added another finger and curled them both inside me. I almost lifted completely off the bed and my hand fisted in his hair as I felt my body start to tense with the first wave of orgasm.

“Oh fuck oh fuck I’m going to… oh God… Tom… I’m going to…”

“Come for me, Lori, beautiful girl,” he said softly. The ripples ran up my body and my mind went totally blank as I clenched around his fingers. He eased up, slowly bringing me down from my high with gentle licks and strokes. I looked down at him as I came back to my senses; he extracted his fingers and, eyes locked on me, licked them greedily.

“That was gorgeous, darling.”

“All right, enough playing. Get inside me,” I growled.

“As you wish, darling - ”

“Wait!” I had to work to push myself up off the bed, still feeling slightly boneless, and grabbed for my purse on the floor. Then, to his shock, I extracted a small bottle of lube.

He stared at me. “Seriously? What kind of girl carries that in her purse?”

I smiled wickedly. “Honestly? A girl who lives in constant hope of meeting a man with an absolutely enormous cock.”

“You flatter me, love.”

I squirted some into my hand and began to work it over his shaft. He bit his lip and moaned at the touch.

I lay back on the bed. “All right, did you not hear me? I’m pretty sure I told you to get inside me - OH!”

He had thrust into me in one fell swoop, and dear Jesus he felt every bit as big as he looked. He stilled for a minute, waiting for me to get used to him.

“Thank God for the lube,” I gasped.

He was breathing hard, his face flushed with the effort of holding back. “I know. Sorry. Overexcited. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. You feel… good God, Tom, you feel amazing.”

“You feel like… absolute heaven,” he responded, starting to slowly undulate his hips. I could feel him bumping into my cervix; he filled me, stretched me, and despite the slight discomfort it felt amazing.

“Go on, then,” I smiled up at him. He bent down to nip at my neck as he thrust harder and faster. I wrapped my legs around his waist and reached down to rub my clit furiously; I could feel another orgasm coming on, and I could tell he was getting closer to the edge as well.

The sounds of our lovemaking filled the room - I was suddenly aware that I was muttering a stream of profanity as our bodies slapped together, and he grunted and moaned and every now and then I could hear a “fuck, darling” escape in that delicious accent.

“Oh - oh Jesus - Lori I’m - I’m going to come - ”

I hooked my ankles together and pulled him in as deeply as I could, while I clenched around him, hastening my own orgasm. We both cried out; my whole body was pulsing, shockwaves of pleasure rocking through me, and I felt him spill into me before collapsing onto his side.

A slick sheen of sweat covered our bodies as we lay there for a minute.

“Wow,” I whispered.

I could feel his laugh, deep and rich and chocolatey, bubble up from his chest as he kissed my neck. “God, Lori, that was fantastic.”

“Oh Jesus, it really was, wasn’t it?”

He pushed himself up on his elbows and grinned at me. “We’ve got to do this more often.”

“I know. So hard to get a babysitter, though.”

“I’m sure the baby’s doing fine with your mother.”

“Should we call and check? I feel like we should call and check - ” I reached for my phone. Our daughter was only ten months old and I could already feel the guilt washing over me as I thought about leaving her for this, our anniversary celebration.

“Lori.” He grabbed the phone away from me. “No. Your mother said to call her tomorrow. It’s late; let her and the baby rest.” At that, he threw the phone across the room.

“Oh, you bastard,” I muttered, pulling him in for a kiss.

“By the way,” he said, breaking away for a moment. “Give me back my ring.”

“You give back mine.”

We both got up and went through our respective clothes for our wedding rings. I slipped it on his finger; he put mine on. It was all part of the game we’d played; we’d agreed in advance that it should be like we’d never met, and we couldn’t very well do that with our matching rings. We stood there for a moment, appreciating each other’s bodies, before he drew me in for a long kiss.

Finally he pulled back and smiled. “Shall we go again? We have all weekend.”

I smiled. “All right, just once more. Then I’m looking forward to getting my first full night’s sleep in ten months.”

“That will, indeed, be wonderful.” He folded me in his arms and we both fell, laughing, back onto the bed.


End file.
